The Last Dream
by HB rules
Summary: Skyfall spoilers! The end chapel scene from M's POV.


**Okay, so more Skyfall drabbles. Was supposed to go and see it again today but it was sold out; damn! **

**So I wrote the chapel scene from M's point of view just because I can. There may be some inaccuracies but this is from memory and a week ago is a long time for me! So yeah here it is.**

* * *

The sky was burning, yet she shivered from the cold. Stealing a glance behind her, M saw that what was left of the house had been engulfed in flames and the structure was crumbling before her eyes. Tendrils of flame clawed at the sky, reaching up as if in prayer towards the stars but fading to smoke before they could reach quite far enough. It was an unusual sight, somehow both terrible and beautiful all at once.

She felt guilty that 007 had destroyed his family home for her, but there wasn't really time to dwell on it. Kincade was urging her onwards towards the chapel which was about a hundred metres away. He had put his arm around her, a perfectly innocent gesture but one which was greatly appreciated. A long time ago she might have scolded him for it, but this wasn't a time for squabbling over courtesy. He was coming; they both were.

M didn't need to wonder if Bond had made it out of the burning building, she just knew. It was the same feeling that she'd had after the incident in Istanbul; she hadn't been able to accept that he was dead, even when faced with writing his obituary. They had known each other a very long time, and she knew his capabilities better, perhaps, than even he did. She just hoped that he would hurry up.

Just as she knew that Bond had survived, she knew that Silva would have as well. He was just as stubborn as James, though in a very different and deranged way; he would not die until he had found her, that much she had accepted. M could see that she had made him into the monster he was today, but looking back she knew that she would have made the same decision. No-one quite understood what choices she had to make on a daily basis, choosing who lived and who died and trying to do it with a clock ticking faster and faster behind her. In her position they would have done the same thing, or so she told herself.

The chapel still seemed so far away, and every step burned. Kincade hadn't noticed, and M hadn't chosen to tell him, but it was becoming more difficult to hide. It wasn't the incessant pain stabbing at her side which bothered her, but the way that it was slowing her down. She hadn't given up the fight quite yet, but her body was beginning to give up and she didn't know how much longer she could keep going. M knew that she was losing blood, and all of her instincts were telling her to stop; but she couldn't. Something kept her walking across the cracked dry ground until her hand brushed the cold stone of the chapel and she glanced up at the sky, wondering if she would ever get to see the stars again.

Xxx

It only took a few minutes for her to realise. Kincade had gone to search the rooms to see if he could find anything of use, and M was left alone holding herself up on the dark oak of the pews. She knew that if she sat down she wouldn't get up again.

It was eerily peaceful, with the sounds of the rest of the world sealed out by the thick granite walls. M looked at the altar, bare but for a golden cross and a white tablecloth. She had never been religious; her line of work was always so cruel and unforgiving that God had never come into it. But now, when everything else had been stripped away, she almost wished that she did believe in something. She didn't know whether it would have offered comfort or security to her in her life, but in this moment the power of faith, she thought, might have helped her to feel at ease.

She was dying and she knew it. M supposed that she had known for a while now, ever since the man in the hallway had cracked the stone arch with his bullet and she had felt it pierce her side, but she hadn't had the courage to accept it. Her side had gone completely numb, and when her fingers touched the place where the man had hit her it came away soaked with blood; but she felt nothing.

Scared wasn't the right word to describe the feeling in the pit of her stomach; M had always known that working for MI6 would always bring with it the risk of assassination. No, she wasn't scared. It was her time, she could sense it, and hopefully she could go without giving Silva the satisfaction of finishing her off. What she felt, she decided, was regret. There were so many things in her life that she had never really thought of doing until she realised that she no longer could; travelling the world, jumping out of a plane, having grandchildren…They were the sort of thing you didn't miss until you come to the end of your life. M had said herself that regret is unprofessional, but this wasn't about her job anymore – this was just about her.

When she saw Silva in the doorway, her heart skipped a beat. Even when she had nothing left to lose, somehow he still managed to unnerve her. He was talking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying – she didn't need to. There was nowhere to run, for either of them, but maybe that was a good thing. If Bond could get here quickly enough, then at least the mission wouldn't have been in vain. She couldn't let him get away after everyone he had killed.

Silva moved closer to her, noticing the blood stains on her coat and asking her who had hurt her. She thought that was a bit of a stupid question, given that he sent his men in with guns to kill them all, but she kept her mouth shut. She just had to buy some time until 007 could get there, that was the only thing on her mind – that and how incredible heavy her head was feeling. Kincade came back into the room, but he was stopped by a close shot from Silva. At least he hadn't killed him, she thought; enough people had died for her already.

When he placed the gun in her hand, M didn't know what to think. He placed it against her forehead and rested his head against hers, begging her to finish it for them both. A million thoughts ran through her mind at that moment, so many that she couldn't quite grasp them all at once and decide what to do. She could pull the trigger, killing them both, but that was what he wanted. Giving him the satisfaction was almost worse than him getting away – she couldn't let that happen. But before she could decide, Silva recoiled.

He staggered towards the figure in the doorway, a perfect silhouette in black with a stony expression on his face, and dropped to his knees before him. Dead. Silva was dead and Bond was back. He had come back for her, as she had always hoped that he would, but the only problem was that he was a bit late.

When she fell, he caught her in his arms as gracefully as the deer on the gates. This was it.

'I suppose it's a bit l-late to make a run for it,' she whispered, the hint of a smile passing across her lips.

'I'm up for it if you are,' Bond answered, though the sadness in his eyes told M that he knew as well as she did what was coming.

The corners of her vision were darkening, and all that she could really see was Bond's face lit by the church candles. He was crying. M had always wondered what he thought of her and now she knew, and she wished that she had shown him that she felt the same way. It was mutual respect, an unusual friendship which they had shared, and it passed between them in that moment.

'I did get one thing right,' she told him, the last thing she would ever say. He knew what she meant.

M thought of her husband, the man who had put up with her through everything, and smiled at the thought of seeing him again. She wished that she had been able to see the sky one last time though, to look up at the stars and feel the fresh wind cool against her cheeks. All that was left was silence, but she felt no fear. Everyone had to die, and she had the honour to be with the closest friend she had ever had. There was a tear in her eye but it was never shed, as her body went limp and the world slowly darkened. She would see the sky again, with her husband by her side in the world of never-ending dreams.

And that was enough.


End file.
